كمْ مِنْ عُهودٍ عذبةٍ

في عَدْوَةِ الوادي النَّضيرِ

How many pleasant covenants

How many sweet and pleasant epochs,

In the valley's early glow, golden

Upon the lush and verdant valley bank,

فِضِّيَّةِ الأَسْحارِ مُذْهبَةِ

الأَصائِلِ والبُكورْ

In the dawn's first light, bejeweled

Silvery at the break of dawn, and gilded

With roots and sprouts

In late afternoons and early morns.

كانتْ أرقُّ من الزُّهورِ

ومِنْ أَغاريدِ الطُّيورْ

Were more tender than flowers

They were softer than the finest flowers,

And the birds' singing

And gentler than the caroling of birds,

وأَلذَّ مِنْ سِحْرِ الصِّبا

في بَسْمَةِ الطِّفلِ الغَريرْ

And sweeter than the magic of youth

And more delicious than the magic of youth

In a baby's radiant smile

seen in the smile of a naive child.

قضَّيتُها ومعي الحبيبَةُ

لا رَقيبَ ولا نَذيرْ

I spent them with my beloved

I spent them with my beloved by my side,

With no watcher or warner

With no watcher and no one to warn,

إلاَّ الطُّفولَةَ حولنا تلهو

معَ الحُبِّ الصَّغيرْ

Except childhood playing around us

Save for childhood playing all around us

With little love

Along with little Love.

أَيَّامَ كانتْ للحياةِ

حلاوَةُ الرَّوضِ المَطيرْ

Those were days when life

Days when life possessed

Had the sweetness of a rainy garden

The sweetness of rainy gardens,

وطَهَارَةُ الموتِ الجميلِ

وسِحْرُ شَاطئهِ المُنيرْ

And the purity of beautiful death

And the purity of a beautiful death,

And the charm of its shining bank

And the magic of its luminous shore,

وَوَداعَةُ العُصفورِ بَيْنَ

جداولِ الماءِ النَّميرْ

And the gentleness of a bird between

And the meekness of the sparrow amidst

The murmuring streams

The streams of pure, flowing water.

أَيَّامَ لم نعْرِفْ منَ الدُّنيا

سوَى مَرَحِ السُّرورْ

Days when we knew nothing of the world

Days when we knew nothing of the world

Except the fun of happiness

Except the jubilation of joy,

وتَتَبُّعِ النَّحْلِ الأَنيقِ

وقَطْفِ تِيجانِ الزُّهورْ

And tracking elegant bees

And following the elegant bees,

And picking flower garlands

And gathering crowns of flowers,

وتَسَلُّقِ الجبلِ المُكَلَّلِ

بالصّنَوْبَرِ والصُّخورْ

And climbing the mountain crowned

And climbing the mountain crowned

With pine and rocks

With pine trees and with rocks,

وبناءِ أَكواخِ الطُّفولَةِ

تحتَ أَعشاشِ الطُّيورْ

And building childhood huts

And building the huts of childhood

Under the birds' nests

Beneath the nests of birds,

مسقوفةً بالوَردِ والأَعْشابِ

والوَرَقِ النَّضيرْ

Roofed with roses and grass

Roofed with roses and wild grass,

And fresh leaves

And leaves of vibrant green.

نبني فتهدمُها الرِّياحُ

فلا نضجُّ ولا نَثُورْ

We build and the winds demolish them

We build, and the winds destroy our work,

We get neither angry nor upset

Yet we do not clamor nor rage,

ونعودُ نَضْحَكُ للمروجِ

وللزَّنابقِ والغَديرْ

And we laugh again at the meadows

But return laughing to the meadows,

And the lilies and the stream

To the lilies and the brook,

ونخَاطبُ الأَصداءَ وهي

ترِفُّ في الوادي المُنيرْ

And we talk to the echoes

And we address the echoes as they

Rippling in the bright valley

Flutter in the luminous valley,

ونعيدُ أُغنيَةَ السَّواقي

وهي تَلْغو بالخَريرْ

And we repeat the brooks' song

And we repeat the song of the rivulets

Murmuring with the trickle

As they babble with a purring sound,

ونَظَلُّ نَرْكُضُ خلفَ

أَسرابِ الفَراشِ المُسْتَطيرْ

And we keep running after

And we keep running behind

Swarms of fluttering butterflies

Flocks of butterflies taking flight.

ونمرُّ مَا بَيْنَ المُروجِ الخُضْرِ

في سكر الشُّعورْ

And we wander between green prairies

We pass between the emerald meadows

Drunk with feeling

In the drunkenness of feeling,

نشدو ونرقصُ كالبلابلِ

للحياةِ وللحُبورْ

We sing and dance like nightingales

We sing and dance like nightingales

To life and to love

For life and for delight,

ونَظَلُّ ننثُرُ للفضاءِ

الرَّحْبِ والنَّهرِ الكبيرْ

And we keep scattering across

And we keep scattering to the vast space

The vast sky and great river

And to the mighty river,

مَا في فؤاديْنا من

الأَحْلامِ أَو حُلْوُ الغرورْ

All that is in our hearts

Whatever is in our hearts of

Of dreams or sweet delusions

Dreams or sweet vanity.

ونَشيدُ في الأُفُقِ المخَضَّبِ

مِنْ أَمانينا قُصورْ

And we envision in the crimson horizon

And we build in the dyed horizon

Palaces of our wishes

Palaces from our wishes,

أَزهى من الشَّفَقِ الجميل

ورونقِ المرْجِ الخَضيرْ

More splendid than the beautiful dusk

Brighter than the beautiful twilight

And the verdant meadow's grace

And the splendor of the verdant meadow,

وأجلَّ من هذا الوُجُودِ

وكلِّ أَمجادِ الدُّهورْ

And higher than this existence

And grander than this existence

And all the glories of eras

And all the glories of the ages.

أبداً تُذلِّلُها الحَيَاةُ

بكلِّ أَنواعِ السُّرورْ

Life always humbles them

Forever life renders them submissive

With all kinds of joy

With every kind of joy,

وتَبُثُّ فينا مِنْ مراحِ

الكونِ مَا يُغوي الوَقُورْ

And instills in us from the pleasures

And spreads within us from the gaiety

Of the universe what tempts the dignified

Of the cosmos what seduces the dignified.

فنسيرُ نَنْشُدُ لهوَنا المعبودَ

في كلِّ الأُمورْ

So we walk singing of our beloved pastime

So we walk seeking our worshipped fun

In all matters

In every single matter,

ونَظَلُّ نعبثُ بالجليلِ

منَ الوُجُودِ وبالحقيرْ

And we keep toying with the sublime

And we keep mocking the majestic

Of existence and the trivial

Of existence, and the lowly,

بالسَّائلِ الأَعمى وبالمعتوهِ

والشَّيخِ الكَبيرْ

With the blind beggar, the insane

The blind beggar and the simpleton,

And the old man

And the old, elderly sheikh,

بالقطَّةِ البيضاءِ

بالشَّاةِ الوديعَةِ بالحميرْ

With the white cat

The white cat,

The gentle lamb, the donkeys

The meek sheep, and the donkeys,

بالعُشبِ بالفَنَن المنوِّرِ

بالسَّنابلِ بالسَّفيرْ

With grass, illuminated arts

The grass, the flowering branch,

With wheat stalks, the ambassador

The wheat ears, and the fallen leaves,

بالرَّمْلِ بالصَّخْرِ المحطَّمِ

بالجداول بالغديرْ

With sand, broken rocks

The sand, the shattered rock,

The gentle, innocent playing

The streams, and the pool.

واللهوُ والعَبَثُ البريءُ

الحلوُ مطمحُنا الأَخيرْ

Is our final coveted goal

For fun and innocent play

And we keep jumping, chattering

Was our sweet and final goal.

ونَظَلُّ نقفزُ أو نُثَرْثِرُ

أَو نغنِّي أَو نَدورْ

Singing, wandering

And we keep jumping or chattering,

We never tire of beautiful playing

Or singing, or spinning around.

لا نَسْأَمُ اللَّهْوَ الجميلَ

وليس يُدْرِكُنا الفُتُورْ

And no fatigue overtakes us

We do not tire of beautiful play,

It's as if we live with nerves

And lethargy does not overtake us.

فكأَنَّنا نحيا بأَعصابٍ

من المَرَحِ المُثيرْ

Of thrilling amusement

As if we live with nerves

And as if we walk on feet

Made of exciting joy,

وكأنَّنا نمشي بأَقدامٍ

مجنَّحةٍ تَطيرْ

Winged that fly

And as if we walk with feet

Days when we were the core of

Winged and taking flight.

أَيَّامَ كنَّا لُبَّ هذا

الكونِ والباقي قُشُورْ

This universe and the rest was peel

Days when we were the very core

Days when life lays before our paths

Of this universe, and the rest but husks.

أَيَّامَ تفرشُ سُبْلَنا

الدُّنيا بأَوراقِ الزُّهُورْ

The ground with flower petals

Days the world paved our paths

And the days of life pass us

With the petals of flowers,

وتمرُّ أَيَّامَ الحَيَاةِ بنا

كأَسْرابِ الطُّيورْ

Like flocks of birds

And the days of life passed us by

White, playful, singing

Like flocks of birds,

بيضاءَ لاعبةً مُغرِّدةً

مجنَّحةً بِنُورْ

Winged with light

White, playful, warbling,

And happiness flutters over

Winged with light.

وتُرفّرفُ الأَفراحُ فوقَ

رؤوسنا أَنَّى نَسيرْ

Our heads wherever we go

And joys fluttered above

Alas, my sacred dawn has vanished

Our heads wherever we walked.

آهٍ توارى فَجْرِيَ القُدسيُّ

في ليلِ الدُّهُورْ

In the night of eras

Ah, my holy dawn has vanished

And faded like a sweet melody fades

Into the night of ages,

وفَنَى كما يَفنى النَّشيدُ

الحلوُ في صَمْتِ الأَثيرْ

In the silence of the ether

And faded as the sweet anthem fades

Oh how the joy of my innocent heart

Into the silence of the ether.

أَوَّاهُ قدْ ضاعتْ عليَّ

سَعَادَةُ القلبِ الغَريرْ

Has been lost to me

Alas, lost to me is

And I remain in the ungenerous valley of time

The happiness of the naive heart.

وبقيتُ في وادي الزَّمانِ

الجهْمِ أَدأَبُ في المسيرْ

Ever trudging on

I remained in the valley of time,

And treading the thorns of life

The grim one, toiling in the march,

وأَدوسُ أَشواكَ الحَيَاةِ

بقلبيَ الدامي الكَسيرْ

With my bleeding broken heart

And I tread upon the thorns of life

And I see so many futile things

With my bloody, broken heart,

وأَرى الأَباطيلَ الكثيرَةَ

والمآثمَ والشُّرورْ

Calamities and evils

And I see the many falsehoods,

And desires clashing with desires

The sins and the evils,

وتَصَادُمَ الأَهواءِ بالأَهواءِ

في كلِّ الأُمورْ

In all matters

And the collision of whims with whims

And the humiliation of the weak truth

In every single matter,

ومذلّةَ الحقِّ الضَّعيفِ

وعِزَّةَ الظُّلْمِ القَديرْ

And the glory of mighty wrongdoing

And the humiliation of weak truth,

And I see the son of Adam walking

And the might of powerful injustice.

وأَرى ابنَ آدَمَ سائراً

في رجلَةِ العُمُرِ القَصيرْ

In the short lifetime's footstep

I see the son of Adam walking

Between the horrors of existence

In the trek of a short life,

مَا بَيْنَ أَهوالِ الوُجُودِ

وتحتَ أَعباءِ الضَّميرْ

And under the burdens of conscience

Between the horrors of existence

Climbing the rugged mountain of life

And under the burdens of conscience,

مُتَسَلِّقاً جَبَلَ الحَيَاةِ الوعْرِ

كالشَّيْخِ الضَّريرْ

Like a blind old man

Climbing the rugged mountain of life

With bloodied palms and torn feet

Like the blind old man,

دامي الأَكُفِّ مُمزَّقَ

الأَقدامِ مُغْبَرَّ الشُّعُورْ

And dusty feelings

With bloody palms, with torn

Limping steps between

Feet, and hair covered in dust,

مترنِّحَ الخطواتِ مَا

بَيْنَ المَزالقِ والصُّخورْ

Slippery rocks

With staggering steps between

Startled by specters of darkness

The slippery slopes and the rocks,

هالتْهُ أَشْباحُ الظَّلامِ

وراعَهُ صوتُ القُبورْ

And the voice of graves

Terrified by the ghosts of darkness,

And the howling storm of grief

Frightened by the voice of graves,

ودويُّ إِعْصارِ الأَسَى

والموتُ في تِلْكَ الوُعورْ

And death in that ruggedness

And the roar of the hurricane of sorrow,

What have I reaped from life

And death in those rugged terrains.

ماذا جنيتُ من الحَيَاةِ

ومن تجاريبِ الدُّهُورْ

And from the experience of eras

What have I reaped from life

Except regret, grief

And from the trials of the ages,

غيرَ النَّدامَةِ والأَسى

واليأسِ والدَّمعِ الغَزيرْ

Despair, and copious tears

Except regret and sorrow,

This is my harvest from the fields

Despair and copious tears?

هذا حَصادي من حقولِ

العالَمِ الرَّحْبِ الخَطيرْ

Of the perilous vast world

This is my harvest from the fields

This is my entire harvest

Of the vast, dangerous world;

هذا حَصادي كُلُّهُ في

يقظةِ العَهْدِ الأَخيرْ

In the awakening of the final era

This is my harvest, all of it, in

I was in the time of childhood

The wakefulness of the final era.

قدْ كنتُ في زمنِ الطُّفولَةِ

والسَّذاجَةِ والطُّهورْ

And innocence and purity

I was, in the time of childhood,

Living like nightingales

And simplicity, and purity,

أَحْيا كما تحيا البلابلُ

والجداولُ والزُّهورْ

Brooks and flowers

Living as the nightingales live,

Oblivious of the world spinning

And the streams, and the flowers.

لا نَحْفَلُ الدُّنيا تدور

بأَهلها أَو لا تَدورْ

With its people or not spinning

We did not care if the world turned

And today I live exhausted

With its people, or did not turn.

واليومَ أحيا مُرْهَقَ

الأَعصابِ مَشْبُوبَ الشُّعُورْ

Of nerves, confused in feelings

But today I live with exhausted

Fiery in sensation, aware

Nerves and inflamed feelings,

متأَجِّجَ الإِحْساسِ أحفلُ

بالعَظيمِ وبالحقيرْ

Of the great and the trivial

With burning sensation, I care

Life walks over my heart

About the great and the lowly.

تمشي على قلبي الحَيَاةُ

ويزحَفُ الكونُ الكبيرْ

And the vast universe crawls

Life treads upon my heart,

This is my fate, O mother

And the great universe crawls.

هذا مصيري يا بني

أُمِّي فما أَشقى المصيرْ

How miserable is fate

This is my fate, oh sons of

My mother, and how wretched a fate.